


Catorce

by curvasud



Series: 2024 [2]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-17
Updated: 2010-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-13 17:29:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/139847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curvasud/pseuds/curvasud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Give fathers some credit. Consider talking to yours. He might understand better than you think."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catorce

They only returned to Madrid yesterday evening, so Luca hadn’t even had time to unpack yet. He took out the necessities, toiletries and a book he was reading on the plane, embraced Papai, kissed Mamãe goodnight, and was just about to undress for bed when he heard a series of sharp taps against the window.

Luca tugged his jumper back down and approached the source of the noise, already smiling. There he saw Jon’s face—bright, beautiful, even in the dark—grinning back at him, and felt such a deep longing spreading through his chest that, for a moment, he thought he forgot to breathe. Luca bit his lip, blushed at Jon’s impatient gestures, and opened the window with slightly shaking arms.

“Finally,” said Jon, as he slid one leg over the sill and climbed through, steadying himself with hands hooked firmly around Luca’s hips. “I thought you were going to leave me out there all night.”

“I’ve told you so many times to just use the front door,” Luca mumbled, “but you insist on spidermanning my window.”

Jon laughed—his laugh was always loud and wholehearted, just like him, and Luca was almost certain that he couldn’t live without either of them—but obediently quieted at Luca’s embarrassed _shh!_ Jon was still smiling, though, as he tugged Luca down on the bed next to him. “If I use the front door, we’d have to wait until you’re sure your parents are asleep. Do you think you can wait that long to see me every time I want to see you?” Jon ran his fingers teasingly along the hem of Luca’s jumper, ridden up to reveal a sliver of tanned skin. “I see spending the past few weeks in the southern hemisphere treated you well. Let me tell you, it was absolutely miserable in Liverpool. I was so jealous. And pasty.”

Luca made a soft, pleased hum and slid his hands up Jon’s sides, couldn’t help but stroke his back, his shoulders, his neck—touch everything and feel a familiar warmth greeting his palms. “I—I missed you. It’s been so long. Did you have a nice a holiday? How is your family?”

Jon looked like he wanted to laugh again, so he buried his face in Luca’s chest and had his giggle there. “My little Luca, always so polite.” When he resurfaced, Jon seemed to delight in seeing Luca flushed and squirming. He swept his thumbs over Luca’s reddened cheeks, admired the heat of them against his own skin, and pressed their foreheads together gently.

“I missed you too. I was glad to be away from Madrid when I found out you were going to travel with your mother, and Liverpool was nice, it was. But I don’t have any memory of it and it just doesn’t feel like a sort of home to me—not the way it feels to Papá, I suppose. He had a great time, I think. Mamá and Ane did too, but I think Papá especially. Sometimes he seemed quieter than usual on our holiday, more...contemplative, maybe? I don’t know; it was weird. But he was so excited to show us everything and I never really see him like that.”

“I’m glad for him. What did you do?”

“Many things. I saw the hospital where I was born and Anfield, of course. I liked the docks a lot too—Papá and I walked along them while Mamá and Ane shopped, and that was nice. We saw some men still wearing the ‘Alonso 14’ shirt! Can you believe it? Oh! And we met Papá’s old teammate there, Gerrard—do you remember?”

“Yes,” said Luca. “My dad has mentioned him too.”

“Yeah, it was surreal. We had dinner with his family and it was great. He and Papá had so many stories to tell and I could see that they get on really well, even after all these years. It was important to Papá to have that reconnection and I think—” Now Jon was blushing.

Luca was surprised. He had never seen Jon flustered about anything before. “What?”

“I think Papá and Mamá wanted me to...hang out with Gerrard’s daughter, Lexie.”

Luca hid his smile in Jon’s shoulder. “And did you?” he prompted, muffled.

“No!” Jon said immediately, moving a hand to the back of Luca’s neck and petting the little hairs there. “I mean, she was nice, but you know she’s not my type. Obviously.”

“Of course,” said Luca solemnly, lifting his head. “ _Obviously_.”

Jon grinned. “Be quiet now,” he said, and arranged them so that Luca was straddling his lap. Jon touched his lips to Luca’s, licked at the sweet little dip of his mouth, and Luca indeed tried very hard to be quiet after that.

They kissed and kissed and kissed. Luca had his fingers tangled in Jon’s hair, rubbing his scalp and occasionally tugging on loose locks. Jon sneaked one hand up Luca’s jumper, pinching his nipples now and then, and let the other wander down to tease the dark trail low on Luca’s belly. Over and over they made each other moan, then laughed and whispered hushes into the hot, wet space between their mouths.

Eventually, Luca pulled back, reluctant and apologetic, but he always was. Jon closed his eyes, took several deep breaths, and held Luca against his chest. “It’s all right,” he said, linking their fingers together. “You know we’re all right.”

Luca also closed his eyes, listened to Jon’s steadying heartbeat beneath him, and thought they were all right too, secretly. But he said, “Don’t fall asleep here, okay? You know you can’t. And aren’t your parents worried, wondering where you go so often at night?”

Jon snorted. “It’s about _ten_ , Luc, most people are only heading out at this time. Including my parents, probably. You’re the only sixteen-year-old in Spain with a curfew.”

“Am not,” said Luca, tickling Jon because he deserved it. “And it’s not a curfew, it’s a _choice_.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Jon, yawning, “you _choose_ to be boring. And, God help me, I choose to be boring with you.”

Luca smiled and snuggled closer. Maybe ten more minutes before he kicked Jon out.

 

 

“Luca. Luca.”

Luca felt a warm hand shaking his shoulder, comforting, but he still didn’t want to part from his dream. “Stop it, Jon,” he murmured, “let me sleep.”

“No sleep, Luca, you have to wake up,” the warm hand insisted. “You too, Jon, wake up, boy.”

Something about that forced Luca’s eyes open. Jon was snoring beside him and the friendly talking hand was his father. His _father_.

“Shit!” Luca said, falling out of bed. “Shit, fuck, I— _fuck_.”

“Luca!”

“Sorry! I mean, I didn’t mean, but—it’s not... _please_ , Pai.”

“Calm down, Luca,” Papai said. “It’s all right. Listen to me: your mother has already left the house. I need you to wake up Jon, make yourselves presentable and come down to the living room, okay? I would like to speak with both of you.” Papai waited for Luca to manage a shaky nod before he left the room and shut the door behind him.

“God,” Luca breathed out, pushing his fringe back. “Oh, God.”

Luca wondered sometimes if Jon could sixth-sense his distress, for he stirred at that moment. “Luc?” Jon said sleepily, groping around the still-warm space next to him. “Praying already, this early?”

“My dad knows,” Luca said weakly, sinking back down on the bed. “My dad knows, Jon, he knows about us.” After a few moments, he felt strong arms wrapping around him, fingers weaving between his own. Jon kissed his cheek.

“What do we do?”

“He wants to speak with us,” said Luca. He squeezed Jon’s hand. “Jon, I—”

“Hey,” said Jon, stroking Luca’s jaw. “It’s all right. Whatever happens, it’ll be all right.” Jon swallowed but met Luca’s gaze. “I’m here for you, no matter what. And if you don’t want—or you can’t—or for whatever reason you just...”

Luca grabbed Jon by his shirt and pulled him into a sudden, hard kiss. “I want,” he gasped. “Of course I want. I want so much, Jon, and I—” Luca breathed in, breathed out. _Now_. “I’ll fight for it. I’ll fight for you.”

Jon laughed, a little misty-eyed, but full-bodied and passionate, _just like him_ , and he looked so sincerely happy that Luca couldn’t help but laugh, too, and kiss him again and again.

“Oh God, our breaths are horrible,” groaned Luca. “Come on, let’s go gear up then.”

 

 

“Sit down, boys,” said Papai. Luca noticed that his father was already settled in his favourite armchair with a cup of tea. He bit his lip and followed Jon to the couch.

For all that his spirits had rallied to Fight For Love or whatever earlier, sitting across from his very Christian father, who had just caught him in bed with his...Jon, was absolutely the most terrifying moment of Luca’s life. To make it worse, his father couldn’t even look at him and had fixed his gaze, instead, upon a little pocket Bible in his lap.

“Pai—” Luca started, trembling. “Please, I—”

Papai held up a hand. “Please, let me speak first,” he said. Luca and Jon nodded.

“To ease your minds, first of all, I’m not angry, sad, or disappointed. I will not tell your mother and I will not tell your parents either, Jon. Whom you decide to tell, if and when you do, should be up to you, and I apologise for taking that away from you this morning, for entering your room without permission. I did knock,” he added, “but you mustn’t have heard me. I was worried since you don’t usually sleep in so late, Luca, but I shouldn’t have invaded your privacy.”

“It’s okay, Pai,” Luca said quietly.

“Then the only other thing I would like to tell you boys,” said Papai, “is try to be _good_. Be good, be faithful, be true to yourselves, and you’ll be all right. If you are all those things, or continually try to achieve all those things in your lives, then I am proud of you because that is all that I can ask of you.”

Luca looked from his father to Jon, who looked just about as confused as Luca felt, to his father again.

“I—um—Pai, that’s... that’s great, I—I think, but, um. What about...?” Luca couldn’t help but stare at the Bible on his father’s knee, and saw Papai dropped his eyes to it as well. Papai set his teacup aside and picked up the scripture.

“This used to belong to me, a very long time ago. When I was younger, just a few years older than you are now, I gifted it to a man. He was a very good man. I cared a great deal about him and I entrusted him completely with something very precious to me. I never expected it back, never wanted it back. It doesn’t feel like mine anymore. I think if I should ever meet him again, I would return it to its rightful owner. That’s the way it should be, I think, the way it should have been. I only hope it’s not too late.”

Luca bit his lip. His father was promising more questions than answers, really, although Luca had the sense that he was supposed to be getting something from this story.

“How did it come to be in your possession again?” Jon asked.

“Ah, a lovely young man delivered it to me in Brasil,” said Papai, smiling. “You see, his father is its proper owner. Has been for many, many years.”

“Why then? Why do you have it now?”

“I think some things are meant to happen. God only knows what.” Papai stood up then, stretched out his long limbs, and tucked the Bible into his pocket. “Well, then. Have a good day, boys. Have fun, but do try to limit your sleepovers; this is not that kind of a house.”

“Of course,” Luca hurried to say, blushing. “Thank you, Papai.”

“Yes,” Jon agreed, offering a hand to Luca’s father. “Thank you, Señor.”

Papai accepted Jon’s hand, firm, and then pulled him closer to whisper something that Luca couldn’t catch. So later, when they were alone again and curled up to each other, Luca asked Jon about the last thing Papai said to him.

“He said, ‘Be good to my son.’” Jon brought Luca's hands up to his lips and pressed soft kisses to his fingers. All of Luca's tension seemed to have melted away—Luca felt like he was floating and floating and he never wanted to come back down. “And he also said, ‘Give fathers some credit. Consider talking to yours. He might understand better than you think.’”

“Hm.”

“I know. Your father is a weirdo.”


End file.
